


What I’m looking for is not out there; it is in me

by agentcalliope



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, canon compliant as of 5.14, warning for mentions of non-consensual relationship, warning for mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 03:57:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentcalliope/pseuds/agentcalliope
Summary: After Jemma, nobody comes.Fitz knows it's better that way(each time someone comes to see Fitz, and each time he tries to piece himself back together)





	What I’m looking for is not out there; it is in me

After Jemma, nobody comes.

Nobody comes, and Fitz thinks that it’s better that way. He knows what he’s done, and he knows what he’s done won’t be forgiven. Can’t be forgiven. He is a monster and he’s a monster locked away from anyone who might get hurt, those who’ve already been hurt.

God, it makes him sick. He lurches off of his bed, pacing the floor. Dragging his fingers through his hair and squeezing his eyes shut. There’s something wrong with him _wrong_ wrong there’s something wrong some—

 

He feels arms, wrapped around his body, holding him close.

( “you’re just different now,” Fitz whispers, holding Daisy close. “You’re just different now and there’s nothing wrong with that”.)

 

Feels a hand, gently taking his, holding him tight.

(“Hold on Jemma, Fitz says. “hold on tight”. And she did.)

 

But now there’s no one holding him close and no one holding his hand tight, and he has to pick himself off the floor.

 

He lies in bed, and lies in his bed, alone.

 

After Jemma, nobody comes.

He knows it’s better that way.

 

* * *

 

After Jemma, it’s Deke.

 

Fitz wasn’t expecting that. He sits up in bed, swings his legs over and plants them on the ground. He looks at the glass as Deke looks back from the other side.

Deke touches the side of his head, then brings his arm down. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Fitz replies.

“How, uh, how you doing?”

Fitz blinks. “Fine.”

Deke nods, reaches up and touches his head again.

“What happened to your head?” Fitz gets up and slowly begins to walk towards Deke.

Deke freezes. “What?”

“Your head,” Fitz gestures. He’s up to the glass now. Watches as Deke takes his hand off his head, stare at it, and lets it hang at his side. “What happened to it?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

Fitz doesn’t know if it’s the way Deke says it, or if it’s how Deke looks away when he says it. Either way, Fitz knows it was him. That he did it, whatever it was.

 

Fitz swallows. “You’re a terrible liar.”

He turns away, drags himself to the bed, and lies down, facing the wall. Ignores Deke call his name, ignores Deke promising he’ll come visit again sometime.

Ignores Deke when, before he leaves, says he forgives him.

 

Fitz pulls his pillow over his head.

 

* * *

 

The lock beeps, and the door opens as quickly as it slams shut. Fitz wakes, throwing back the covers and stands up, peering into the dark. “Hello?”

Silence.

“Who’s there?”

Silence.

“Jemma?”

Silence.

He walks cautiously, and stops when his foot hits something. He squats, picks up a book. It’s thick and heavy in his hands, and even though his eyes have adjusted to the darkness he can’t make out what it says. He sets it on the floor next to his bed, and waits for the lights to come on in the morning.

 

(When they do, he glances over and looks at the thing that someone risked to give him. Its some kind of meditation guidebook, the title some inspirational quote from some inspirational person, or whatever. He stares at it, and lies back in bed, closing his eyes against the brightness.)

 

* * *

 

“Jemma?”

“Yes, Fitz?”

“Did you come visit last night?”

“No? Why? Did someone come?”

“I thought… never mind.”

“Was it… _him?_ ”

“No. It definitely wasn’t. You know I haven’t seen him since.”

(Besides. No one can make self-help books appear out of thin air.)

 

* * *

 

After Jemma, it’s May.

He’s on chapter one. _What It Means To Be Human._ He’s just a few sentences in when she comes, only making herself known when she lightly knocks on the glass. He folds the corner of the page and closes the book, pausing before he makes himself stand up.

 

As soon as he looks at her, he immediately looks away. Squeezes his eyes tightly. One hand grips the spine of the book but the other reaches up to touch his eyes. He should’ve known that with all the pain and the guilt comes the shame.

“Fitz.”

“May.” He says, his gaze still everywhere but her.

“How are you doing?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“Okay’s good.”

He shrugs. Doesn’t reply because he doesn’t know what to say, and he’s afraid if he says anything else he’ll cry.

“What are you reading?”

He looks at the book.

“Some book about mediation. I don’t know. Jemma gave it to me.”

What else could he do? Say that it was given to him by a ghost? Ask May if she would sneak down here in the dead of night to give him, a monster, a _book_?

 

“Smart.” May says, her voice gentle and kind.

“We both remember our lives in the Framework.” Her voice is still soft. “It could’ve easily be me in there.”

“But it’s not.”

“No.” May agrees. “It’s you. Accept it. Nothing’s going to be able to change this outcome. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t give up.”

She leaves, and leaves Fitz clutching the book in both his hands.

 

* * *

 

“Sorry I wasn’t able to come sooner.”

“It’s only been a day, it’s okay.”

“Oh, Fitz. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“…”

“…”

“I love you, Jemma.”

“I love you, Fitz.”

 

* * *

 

After Jemma, it’s Elena.

This time, he’s on chapter five. _Meditation and Clearing the Mind_. He’s only done the first couple of yoga sessions listed, but he’s already figured out his favorite yoga position is Child’s pose. And Savasana, of course. He loves just to lie there, close his eyes, and try to make himself feel nothing.

 

Elena peers through the glass, eyes narrowed and mouthing silent words. Fitz moves over and brings the book closer, so she can see what it says.

“‘What I’m Looking For Is Not Out There; It Is In Me: a human's guide to finding peace and happiness.’” She reads, and then cocks her head to the side and smiles at him. “You find happiness yet, Fitz?”

He laughs. Shakes his head. “No, but maybe it’ll tell me where it is at the end.’

“Do you think it would also tell me where my arms are?”

Fitz laughs, again. He thinks he hasn’t laughed like this in a while.

“I don’t think so.” He blinks and scratches his head. “I, uh, won’t be able to work on your arms anytime soon. I gave Jemma some pointers, but that’s all I can do for right now.” He pauses. “I’m sorry.”

Elena smiles. “That’s okay Fitz. Don’t worry about it.”

He shifts on his feet. “How’s Mack?

“Mack is fine.” She says after a while. “He has been through worse.”

She keeps her smile, but he finds he can’t return it.

“That title.” Elena says abruptly, her tone now serious, her smile gone. “ _What I’m looking for is not out there; it is in me._ Who wrote that?”

“Helen Keller.”

“What a smart person she was.”

 

* * *

 

“Any word on Coulson yet?”

“No, we’re still looking.”

“I wish I could help.”

“I know. Me too.”

 

* * *

 

After Jemma, it’s Mack.

He’s on Chapter forty-seven. _Own the Choices You Make._ He’s near the end, but he doesn’t feel any closer then he did on chapter one. He’s done all the breathing exercises, all the yoga positions. He’s done the self-reflection and he’s asked himself the questions that have terrible answers. He knows that reading some book that nobody gave him won’t fix him, but he’s going to try anyway.

 

He hears a noise, looks up as Mack limps to the center of the glass and waves at him.

Fitz just stands up and walks over, pushing the pain and the guilt and the shame deep where he hopes won’t reach him.

“Hey Turbo.”

“Mack.”

“I’m sure everyone asks, but how’re you doing?”

Fitz shrugs, runs his fingers through his hair. Deflects the question because he doesn’t know how to answer. “How’s Elena’s arms coming along?”

Mack smiles. “Good. Jemma’s helping out a lot, which is nice. They’re gonna be ready for her soon.”

“Good.” Fitz says, and he means it. “And, uh, how are you?” He says, before he can convince himself not to.

“Nothing time won’t heal.” Mack says softly.

Fitz inhales, and then exhales. “I’m sorry, Mack. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

“Of course.” Mack blinks. “I didn’t think anything different.”

 

* * *

 

“Mack came down to visit?”

“Yeah. He did.”

“How was it?”

“It was good, I guess.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“Want to hear what happened today?”

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

After Jemma, it’s Daisy.

He’s finished the book. He’s reread all of chapters one, two, and almost three when she appears in front of the glass. He doesn’t know how he knows it’s her, but he does, and without looking up he turns the page to chapter four.

Even when she hits the glass, and he feels like it had to be shattered, he refuses to look away.

_Chapter Four: How to Forgive Yourself_

“Fitz!” Daisy bellows.

_How to Forgive Yourself_

She strikes the glass with her fists, over and over again. “What? You can’t look at me now? I know you can hear me!”

_How to Forgive_

“I _hate_ you.”

_Forgive_

“I can _never_ forgive you.”

He throws the book across the room, and finds himself in front of her. He also finds that with the pain and the guilt and the shame, there is also rage.

 

“I know. You already said that.” Fitz snarls, banging his own fist against the glass. “The science was sound, Daisy.”

“I know. I remember you saying that.” Daisy spits his own words back to him. “You know, when you were _cutting into me_.”

“I did what I had to do.”

“I don’t care. You didn’t have to do that. You didn’t _ask_ me.”

“Would you’ve said yes?”

“No!”

“So, I had no other choice.

“Your only choice was to knocked me out, tied me up, and cut into me?” She laughs, throws her hands. “You’re right.”

“It was either you, or everyone else.”

 

Daisy’s breath hitches. “You might’ve closed the rift, but you didn’t save the world. You hurt me, against my will, for something that might not have even been worth it.”

The pain. The guilt. The shame. The rage. He tries to swallow them down again, tries to bury them with all his demons. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Well, you did. That’s what happens when someone makes you do something you don’t want to do. When you say no.” Daisy points a finger at him. “ When they don’t even _ask_. I thought you would understand that.”

He does. He does understand. Remembers the touches he never agreed to, the kisses he never wanted. Remembers a whole lifetime of being with someone who just did what she wanted and didn’t care how it would hurt him, and made him hurt others.

He stares.

She stares back.

 

“I don’t want us to be this way.” Daisy reaches up with shaking hands, wipes her cheeks.

“Time, Daisy.” Fitz says, hoping it’s not a lie. “We just need time.”

She shakes her head. Shrugs. Looks at him with tears in her eyes. “We don’t have that.”

And Daisy leaves, and she leaves him behind with nothing but an empty bed and a book with empty promises. He walks over, picks it up. Flips through the pages.

_Chapter Three: Inhale, Exhale_

_Chapter Nine: Perfection is an Illusion_

_Chapter Twenty-One: Love in Its Many Forms_

_Chapter Fifty: The Definition of Peace, The Definition of Happiness, and How You Decide What They Are_

He tears out them out, one page after another. He crumples them up, throws them as hard as he can. He doesn’t stop until every single piece of paper coats the floor where he stands. He doesn’t stop until _What I’m Looking For Is Not Out There; It Is In Me_ is just as empty as he feels.

 

* * *

 

“Jemma?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t think there’s anything that can fix me.”

“Just. Just don’t stop loving me.”

 

* * *

 

After Jemma, it’s himself.

He’s been picking up the pieces he’s left behind. Picks up every piece of paper one by one, smoothing the wrinkled paper, and dividing them into their chapters all around his room.

He’s got chapters one, ten, sixteen through thirty-two, when he comes across the conclusion.

Fitz lowers himself to the ground, sits on chapter twenty— _Life After Pain_ — and rereads the conclusion, over and over again.

 

Fitz lets it out. All his pain, all his guilt. All the shame, all the rage. The more he screams, the more he feels.

 

When he’s done, the paper in his hands wet with sweat and tears, he doesn’t know how but the words remain as bold and dark as they were before.

He wipes his cheeks. Does his favorite yoga workout. Makes himself inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

Then he flattens the piece of paper with his palms to make it stay straight, places it under his pillow, and begins looking for the next chapter.

 

* * *

 

“May wants to know if you’ve ‘finished it’?”

“Finished it?”

“She said that she hoped that it was helpful.” Jemma cocks her head to the side, frowns. “Do you know what she means?”

Fitz glances back at the book, lying on the floor next to his bed. Even though the pages are rumpled, and there’s nothing stopping them from spilling out, he’s been able to put the book back together again.

 

_Conclusion: Accept Who You Are_

“Yeah.” Fitz smiles. “I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much to Leah, Em, Jocie, Clara, Tanzee, and Chelsey for reading this over and answering my questions. I love you guys. also shout out to Helen Keller for the quote.


End file.
